


i'm lost in a whirlwind of thoughts and madness

by Justafangirloutthere



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Helicopters, I mean, It's kinda obvious, News Media, Peter runs away, Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home, Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home Mid-Credits Scene, Swearing, i can't fucking, i think???, that's it??, uhhhh, ummmm, yaaaaayx2, yaaayyyyy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-12 17:33:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19950148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justafangirloutthere/pseuds/Justafangirloutthere
Summary: When he closed his eyes, it was 2018. When he opened it again, it was 2023.He can't breathe.Everything's moving too fast, and life keeps on throwing things at him, and frankly?He's tired of dodging.--After that goddamn mid-credits scene in Far From Home.





	i'm lost in a whirlwind of thoughts and madness

**July 31st, 2023**

“Spider-Man is Peter Parker,” the Quentin Beck in the video says.

Peter’s heart sputters to a stop, and he stares at the mob below him. They stare back, seemingly stunned to silence.

It’s with horror, when he notes that the people’s reactions are slowly morphing from one of shock and surprise to fear and rage, a frightening combination of emotions to have.

He looks at MJ and realizes that her expression is of alarm. He isn’t entirely sure if it’s for him, or because him. He prayed that it was the former.

He wants to leave, to speak to MJ about this alone, to be anywhere, anywhere, other than here. He had envisioned how he would reveal his identity many times, came up with multiple scenarios.

Press conferences, accidentally slipping it out, the current baddie pulls the mask off his face.

Never had he ever imagined that it would be from _Mysterio_ , or that he would be framed for something he didn’t do. But truth was a funny thing, wasn’t it? And though the scenes in the video were real, and completely accurate, they also didn’t include the major parts before and after. The context was cut and cleaved by Mysterio to create something that would be interpreted completely wrong.

Truth is objective, after all.

“I…” he can’t speak, can’t speak, the words are stuck in his throat, and _his identity, his secret !_

A random blonde woman in the street is the first person to regain her senses enough to take action. She’s the first one who lets the rage win in the battle of emotions coursing through everyone.

“Monster!” she yells. She takes her high heels off, and throws it at him. And though she misses, her reaction sparked movement through the crowd. Sparked an animalistic rage.

She may have missed, but rest assured, others have not.

Some hit the pole that he is on, trying to topple it, others hit him directly. He is hit with a variety of objects -- rotten food, shoes, pocket knives, and one man with a gun starts shooting at him.

He stands up on the tip of the pole, stumbles, and almost falls onto the ground. The bullets and knives graze him, and though he’s actively trying to avoid it, his Peter Tingles are numb and he knows when he’s about to get hit but he can’t move.

He wants to say _‘Quentin’s lying! I didn’t do anything! I’m innocent!’_ , but no words come out of his mouth.

Who would believe him?

He looks at MJ, whose mouth moves, but he cannot hear them over the profanities that are assaulting him. He stares at her, despite all the objects that are being thrown at him, despite the mayhem surrounding him.

He stares at her, and she mouths ‘Run!’

He stares at her, and her face turns more and more panicked as time goes on.

He stares at her, and forgets to pay attention to the mob currently trying to kill him.

A sudden sense of _‘danger!’_ takes over his body, and he dodges, missing the serrated knife by mere inches.

Though he may have missed the knife, he also stumbled over the pole, and landed on the ground.

The hoarde stampedes over him, kicking, punching, and spitting over every inch of skin they can find purchase on. He stands up, gently trying to push some of them away, and shoots a web to a nearby building. He then scans the crowd again, trying to find MJ.

As he surveys the mob, he scrambles up the building, until he’s at a safer distance, where not much could reach him. The gunman’s still trying to shoot him, but Peter’s willing to let his ‘Peter tingles’ take over on that account.

After what seems like forever, he finally, _finally_ saw a hint of the dark, curly hair that he had grown accustomed to in the days following Europe.

She tries to say something to him, but he can’t single out her voice when the crowd is yelling, screaming, tearing their throats at him so loudly.

He stares at her mouth instead. _‘Run!’_ , she mouths.

“MJ,” he whispers, knowing that she can’t hear him, but hoping that she can sense his eyes on her anyways.

_‘Go!’_

* * *

  
He swings away, and tries to pretend that it’s a normal day, after patrol, and he’s going back home. He tries to forget all the people who are doubtlessly staring at him from below.

He may have escaped the initial mob, but that doesn’t mean that the other New Yorkers would receive the news any better. He tries to pretend, but he needs to keep a low profile, so he sticks to adhering himself to the walls, avoiding any windows, and swinging only to get between buildings.

“EDITH, is anyone following me?” he asks, his voice barely a whisper, despite being so high up.

Her quiet voice responds, “No. However, you may want to arrive at your apartment fast.”

And he realizes that though he may have escaped the initial mob, the paparazzi work fast, and already, they have figured out where he lives. He’s quite some distance away from his apartment, and already, he can hear the loud commotion of cameras flashing, and people yelling near him.

“Oh my god,” he whispers to himself.

He needs to run, he needs to get away, he needs to know that none of this is real, he needs to-

“There he is!” one of the reporters shout, staring directly at Peter.

“Fuck,” he says.

He swings again, this time forgoing the entire idea of trying to make himself unnoticeable. He regrets his choice of making his suit the signature red, along with a stark black. As he swings against the mostly white and blue colored buildings, he’s sure that his figure is extremely bright and noticeable.

“EDITH, show me the best route to lose these people!”

“Calculating the best route…”

One reporter brings out _a goddamn megaphone._

“Spider-Man! What is your opinion on the video that the late Mysterio posted?”

_Who just randomly brings a megaphone to work?_

“I am done calculating the most efficient route to lose the reporters. However, you may want to look up.

And of course, _helicopters_ start circling around overhead.

The sunlight is blocking his view, and he can’t quite make out if it’s for news reporters, or for police surveillance. He really wishes that it would be the former.

As he climbs up the nearest skyscraper, one of the helicopters slowly lower themselves to his height. Guns are pointed at his chest.

Goddamn it, he really hates his Parker Luck™.

“Uhm… EDITH? Do you have any advice for this?”

EDITH pauses for a second. “The best course of action would be to leave the scene immediately.”

“Thanks. That’s… really helpful.”

“Put your hands above your head where we can see them!” one of the men yells.

“Oh my god, those are really big guns!” he says.

He slowly inches up the skyscraper, and puts his hands above his head as he’s moving up.

“EDITH, show me a projection of the overall building. I want to see the top,” he whispers.

He takes a deep breath in, and looks at the diagram that EDITH pulls up for him.

“Mr. Parker, please stop moving,” one of the men say.

His heart pounds, and his head feels like it’s going to explode. But he doesn’t stop moving. He whispers something to EDITH.

“Mr. Parker…”

He inches up and up, and watches as his figure moves on the screen in front of him, until…

“You have reached the optimal position.”

He stops at EDITH’s voice. He stares at the helicopters. And he swings up, and backflips onto the roof. He hears the bullets clicking into place and as soon as his foot touches the ground, his Peter Tingles start pulsing in his brain, warning him, _danger, danger, danger!_

He closes his eyes, and makes his way forward. His body responds on it’s own to the danger, and though his mind feels like it’s going haywire, though if he had any conscious control of the body, with the constant pressure on his mind, he’s sure that he would do nothing but curl into a ball, and though the adrenaline that’s built up in his body makes him feel like he’s high, he can still dodge every single one of those bullets.

“I’m innocent,” he yells.

He hears some screeching noises from the megaphone, and he’s sure that one of them is wrestling it away from another.

“Uh huh. Give us something better than that,” one of them yells over the megaphone.

They keep on shooting, showering the bullets at him. Peter hisses as one of them grazes him on the arm.

The constant bang coming from the machine guns are silent, and he can hear one of the men cussing.

“We can’t get him with our guns. He’s too good at dodging,” a young man says quietly, hundreds of feet away.

While they’re distracted, Peter takes his chance to web the opening of the gun shut.

Without taking his eyes off the helicopter, he slowly makes his way to the back of the roof. The helicopter starts drifting over.

“If we ain’t gon’ shoot him, at least we can damned well watch him, right?” a man with a gruff beard asks.

“He’s lying! The video is fake!” Peter yells.

GruffBeard snorts. “Got some evidence?”

“Innocent until proven guilty?”

Gruffbeard laughs coldly. “I mean, hey, I ain’t think any of us likes thinkin’ of shootin’ you. You’re sixteen, for god’s sake, murderer or not. Some of us have got kids your age at home. But the video is pretty damning evidence. ‘Sides, Spider-Man has enhanced healing, yeah?”

Peter shook his head wildly. “No! I swear! The video is fake!”

Gruffbeard only shakes his head. “Look, kid.” Peter flinches.

“We don’t want to do anythin’ to you. In fact, we want to believe you! You’re young. Reminds us of our kids. But we can’t let this go!”

From the distance, Peter can see a minute shake of the head. He can see them gesturing to each other. He can see them preparing something.

“EDITH,” he says quietly.

“We gotta do it now, or he’s gonna run,” the young man says. BaseballHat starts counting down.

A breath in. A breath out.

_Fuck, please don’t shoot me._

And he flips off the roof.

**Author's Note:**

> i had a plan for this.  
> two weeks ago.  
> i need to work on how fast i write TWO FUCKING THOUSAND WORDS.  
> to be fair, last week, i was really busy.  
> i'll do better, i promise. I'll try to aim for,,, like,,, uh,,, 6000 words per chapter. I did write 6000 words, i just didn't like how it ended, so i cut it up.


End file.
